


Reckless

by zycroft



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-30
Updated: 2011-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zycroft/pseuds/zycroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt, "Tonight, I don't feel sorry."</p><p>Elliot is fed up with Liv's baby angst in the wake of losing Calvin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckless

Damn Olivia and her flavor of the month. Or is it week? Elliot doesn’t even know because it isn’t like she trusts him enough to mention that she’s dating someone.

She’s shameless in her thin robe with mussed hair and smeared eyeliner. Her eyes are shining and there’s a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. That more than anything else about her appearance tells him exactly what he’d have interrupted if he’d stopped by 30 minutes earlier. She hasn’t smiled at him in a long time.

He imagines he can smell the sex on her and it makes him angry.

“Get dressed. We got a call.” The hard edge of his voice compliments his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow.

She closes the door on him, and he heads back down to wait in the sedan.

[]

He’s sick of her angst. She knew that Calvin’s presence was temporary and while it’s understandable she’d be hurt about losing him, enough is enough already. He’s been gone more than twice as long as he was around and she needs to move the fuck on already.

He watches her refill her coffee and return to her desk, watches her brush her hair back behind her ear as she bends low over the paperwork covering her desk. She doesn’t bother to look at him even once, but he sees her eyes flick to the framed picture of her with her mother for one telling moment.

He shoves away from his desk and walks out of the bullpen, not sure where he’s going other than _away_.

[]

He navigates the streets of the Upper East Side and tries not to see out of the corner of his eye how relaxed she is, the small smile on her face, or the fading scratches peeking above the collar of her jacket.

He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and guns through a yellow light.

[]

Reckless.

He’s heard the word a million times and seen it in bold-face type on enough fitness reports to know it’s at least sometimes true.

He didn’t have any real reason to drive her home other than to set up this confrontation. The kid gloves are off tonight and he can see on her face that his words have hit home.

He’s just so sick of her silences and little sighs and cautious movements in the wake of every case involving kids. If she can’t handle it any more, she needs to get out.

The tears balanced on the edge of her lower lids push his frustration into the danger zone, like some cartoon thermometer labeled “Ire” at the top and he imagines the rushing streak of red exploding out the top as he stalks towards her.

“You want kids? Then fucking have some! Or don’t. But this shit needs to stop,” harsh and hateful, low voice dripping acid directly in her ear. He doesn’t smell her hair tickling under his nose, he doesn’t see the tears start to fall, just sees the word “Reckless” float across the front of his mind before he gives her a nudge and rasps in her ear again.

“I’m sick of this. So the assholes at the adoption agencies refuse to see what a great mother you’d be. Boo-fucking-hoo. You can tell Mr. This Week to leave it unwrapped. You can stop stuffing those little pink pills down your throat. You can do a lot of things but instead you fucking mope around and drag everyone else down with you, drag me down like I should be ashamed for having a family. And I’m sick of it.”

Her body is trembling and her shoulder shifts against his chest where he’s pressed down into her. He can feel her wrapping her arms tighter around herself, knows she’s trying to shield herself from him even though they both know she doesn’t have a hope in the world of doing that.

She turns her head towards him, the angle wrong for her to make eye contact but doing it anyway, as if to prove to them both that he’s not getting to her. But he is. And it makes his body thrum with adrenaline, having this power over her, knowing that he can affect her in ways other men can’t.

Her tears have vanished but her lips still quiver and he wants to cover them with his own. He wants to keep pushing until her icy exterior shatters and she has to say something, make some move that signals her defeat to him. He presses his body harder against hers and feels her shift her center of balance to keep her ground.

“What’s the matter?” he growls. “Don’t trust any of the strays you bring home? Don’t tell me it’s about wanting a ring and a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence. If you ever wanted that, those days are long gone. So what’sa matter? Hmmm, Liv?”

“Bastard.” It lacks venom, comes out more of a breathy plea than anything, and maybe that’s when he truly abandons all sense of consequences.

He kisses her and it’s no surprise that she kisses him back with greater hunger. He always knew she would, and it’s why he’s never done it before.

He pulls her around to lean flush against him and continues to kiss her as her hands frantically try to touch every inch of his upper body at once. He’s drunk on her lust and his disregard for consequences, and he begins step-shuffling her backwards towards her couch.

When he feels her make contact with the sofa, he roughly pushes her down and studies her as he takes off his jacket and undoes his belt. She’s a bit of a mess from crying, from kissing him, from his fingers tangling her hair when he’d first kissed her. She’s breathing heavily and looks dazed, and another rush of adrenaline courses through him.

“Get your clothes off,” he demands.

She strips off her blouse and bra before he’s looming over her, taking a nipple between his teeth and pulling savagely. She cries out and he isn’t sure if it’s more surprise or pain, but he loves the sound so he does it to her other one with results almost as good.

He pushes her hands away from her waist and when he can’t undo the closure above the zipper, he pulls at it, expecting to hear the fabric rip. Instead, he feels metal give way and then her pants are open. He tugs them off impatiently and watches her underwear catches and follow. She’s naked before him and waiting, and he’s never felt so much like a god before.

He pulls on her legs until she’s slumped just on the edge of the couch, fights his erection through the zipper hole, then covers her body with his and pushes inside of her. She cries out again and he knows for a fact that it’s surprise this time.

After a few thrusts, she grabs the top of his pants to push them down, but he pushes her away. She tries again and he slaps her hand. “Not for you…my body isn’t for you,” he growls in her ear and he feels her break under him.

He sets a punishing pace and roughly palms her breasts and hips, not caring if he bruises her. He bites at her shoulder, then trails his tongue soothingly up her neck to kiss the faint scars left by someone else, someone not him. He bites down and twists her nipple when she screams, then backs away and plants both hands firmly on the tops of her thighs as he rhythmically fucks in and out of her.

She’s crying again even as she’s trying to move her hips to meet his and he takes enormous satisfaction in that. Feeling magnanimous, he unbuttons his shirt and pulls the tails out of his waistband, watches as her eyes roam over his chest and she sub-consciously licks her lips. When it looks like she might bring her hands up to touch, he digs his fingers into her tender thighs as a warning.

He’s close and he can tell she isn’t. He wonders how she’ll finish herself when he leaves, if she’s a shower massager kind of girl or if she has a trusty battery operated dick she keeps in her nightstand. Either way, he knows she’ll be thinking about him and that thought pushes him over the edge with a roar.

She looks confused as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and it quickly morphs into stunned as he zips his pants and backs away from her. He turns away, picks his jacket up from the floor, and leaves with a grim smile on his face.


End file.
